BVS CH 26

chapter 26 

I didn’t have to turn around to know—those sharp eyes on me belonged to Martin.

Ahem.

I thought he might say something, but he only cleared his throat and hurried off toward Baron Gilbert.

That’s it?

I clenched my fists, watching him walk away. I still had plenty of chances to talk to him.

Erica, giddy from the smell of flowers, grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

When we reached the center of the garden, spring was in full bloom—the sweet scent of flowers, the warm sunlight. The scene was perfect.

I didn’t have much time to admire it.

Baron Gilbert called us over, and we walked toward where Martin was standing.

Look at that slouch. He stood like he was full of complaints, one hand in his pocket, chin tilted, looking like a rebellious delinquent.

Baron Gilbert arranged our positions—Erica sat in front, and Martin and I stood behind her.

Even after Erica sat down, he looked us over, frowning slightly.

“Duke, Duchess, could you stand a bit closer together?”

Martin and I exchanged glances. Without hesitation, Martin stepped closer to me, as if it were purely business.

But apparently it still wasn’t close enough for Baron Gilbert.

“Just a little closer, please,” he said with an awkward smile.

Martin ran a hand through his hair. I couldn’t help but think how much he must have been needled by the fact that the baron was someone I’d once praised.

His eyes glinted with some emotion I couldn’t quite place.

Then, all of a sudden, I felt an unfamiliar hand at my waist.

I looked at him in shock.

“Excuse me,” he said.

Oh no. I realized then—the look in his eyes was pure stubborn pride.

Before I could react, his rough, calloused hand wrapped gently around my waist and pulled me firmly into his arms.

I’ve been caught.

Now we looked exactly like a loving couple.

“Yes, perfect! That’s wonderful!” the baron said.

I held my breath. Every nerve in my body was on edge, aware of his hand on my waist.

Apparently I was the only one uncomfortable—when I looked at Martin, he was smiling. He even looked like he was enjoying himself.

Seriously? Just me?

If it were a photograph, I could’ve endured it for a moment. But for a painting, the pose had to be held much longer. My body trembled from tension.

“Wife,” his low, soft voice came right by my ear.

It would have been pleasant—if not for his next words.

“Trust your body to me.”

My ears burned.

He really says things like that without a filter…

Still, in this moment, I had no one to lean on but Martin. Erica had no idea what we were going through behind her back.

Even if our closeness was fake, if it came through in the portrait, it would serve its purpose.

So I let myself lean against him.

“That’s it, hold still—perfect!”

From the front, we must have looked like the picture of marital harmony.

His arms felt warm and kind… but there was also a faint bitterness in my chest that I couldn’t explain.

When the family portrait session finally ended, I patted Erica’s back and we headed back to the house.

“I thought my back was going to break from sitting so straight, sister-in-law.”

“You’re young, you’ll be fine,” I said.

“You two looked good together, though.”

Just the thought made me shiver. Erica, excited to see the finished portrait, ran off ahead.

See? She’s young… I muttered to myself, walking slowly with my aching back.

Then Martin spoke behind me.

“Wife.”

I turned to him. He glanced at my hand pressed to my back and hesitated.

“What is it?”

“Well… there’s still one more thing left.”

One more thing?

Oh, so now he wanted to talk?

“If this is about what we didn’t finish discussing earlier, let’s do it later. My back’s killing me.”

“It’s not that…” he said, scratching his head.

A bad feeling crept up on me.

Looking toward the garden, I saw Baron Gilbert’s easel still set up—and the man himself waiting.

“…It’s not over yet?”

“Your personal portrait is next.”

Why?

I stared at him. “I only asked for a family portrait. I never asked for my own.”

“I decided we’d have one for each family member.”

“Without asking me?”

“They say a married couple is of one mind,” he replied.

Since when have we been that kind of couple?

“Did you get yours done?”

“Yes.”

“And Erica?”

“…Ask her yourself.”

He looked too awkward for me to believe him, but if everyone else had one, I couldn’t refuse. I also couldn’t keep the baron waiting.

Martin offered his hand to help me to the garden.

If this is a lie, you’re dead.

Since my back hurt, I didn’t refuse his support.

And so began my personal portrait hell.

From across the way, Martin gave instructions to Baron Gilbert, and I silently cursed him in my head.

“Wife, could you unclench your fists? You look scary.”

“Can’t help it—they won’t relax.”

By the time it was over, my back was in such bad shape I spent several days lying in bed, not even able to go for walks with Erica.

Martin…

Erica would sometimes come by with chatter about her latest interest—Aaron.

Honestly, Aaron wasn’t important to me. He was just the older brother of the child Erica had wanted to sponsor.

But every time I thought of that portrait session, my anger at Martin flared again.

“I asked him to meet, but he hasn’t replied,” Erica said.

“Maybe he’s busy.”

“Or maybe he didn’t like my stationery…”

“That’s not it,” I assured her.

She still looked uneasy.

“I guess he just needs more time,” I said, stretching stiffly.

“Sister-in-law, isn’t your back taking too long to heal?”

“Don’t get me started. Martin, that jerk—”

“What about my brother?”

“Oh, nothing. Just slipped out.”

My back was in this state because of him, but Erica seemed fine.

“You recovered fast. Even if you had a personal portrait, it must’ve been tough.”

“…Personal portrait?”

“Yes, that day we did the family one—”

“Oh…”

Her eyes darted around.

“You didn’t do one?”

“Uh… maybe not?”

She couldn’t meet my eyes.

“Come on, just tell me the truth.”

“Please, think of my conflicted heart, sister-in-law…”

Definitely suspicious.

I raised my hands like a surgeon about to operate.

“Better tell me quickly.”

“Kyaa! That tickles!”

I poked at her sides until she surrendered.

In the end, she admitted she’d never been told about a personal portrait at all.

So I was the only one who suffered?

Later, I sat across from Martin at a table in the garden, tapping my fingers and staring at him.

Those unreadable eyes…

What’s going on in your head?

The longer I stared, the less I knew, and my eyes just started to ache.

Fine, I give up. I wouldn’t know unless I asked him directly.

I decided to start with something else first—about Prince Oscar.

“Our conversation,” I said, “we still need to have it, don’t we?”